Snake Charmer
by dangerprawn
Summary: A run in with Akabane leaves Ginji injured physically and emotionally. Chapters 1-7 are Ban POV. Chapter 8 is Akabane POV. BanxGinji and Akabane sort of weirdly, violently crushing on Ginji like he does.
1. Chapter 1

Shido told me once that even the cold-blooded snake – despite all his cunning – dies without warmth. And, even though the bastard was trying to insult me, he was right. What he said makes sense. I feel like I will die without Ginji's radiant smile. But, it hasn't always been that way.

Recently Ginji told me that when he first saw me he knew I was trouble. He told me that he knew because when our eyes met I did not flinch. My gaze did not waver. So, he could tell that I am the kind that can kill with one strike. He told me that he was afraid for the first time in a long time because I did not blink and I did not make a sound. He was right to decide that I was very dangerous. He was right to want to eliminate me.

I slithered into his backyard looking for the heat of a fight. We met with tight throats and sweaty palms. The struggle was quick. When it was over the air was hot and we were locked together. My fangs were buried deeply enough in him that they grazed his naked, virgin bone. But, I was attached in such a way that I could not free myself. So, if I killed him I would die too. Usually I would have been prepared to end both of our lives in the same blow. But, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to tighten my grip. Now, I realize that in the intimacy of that skirmish that I saw Ginji's pure heart. It drew from me all the filthy, burning venom of my lonely bloodlust.

I could not kill a creature with such a caring soul. The stain of that blood would have followed me into whatever state of existence might come after this life. He thinks that he will be forever in my dept for allowing us to live. I'll allow him to believe that if he likes. But, I am the one indebted to him. His charm saved me from myself. I ventured into Mugenjou looking for the closeness of a battle to warm my chilled self but, found, instead, the warmth of a companion.

And that was what I was thinking as I drove Ginji to the hospital. How could I have been so calm and reflective in a situation like that? My companion's warmth was slowly spilling out onto the passenger seat of Miss Ladybug. The smell uncleanly hit the roof of my mouth. I had seen a lot of death – but, never so much blood. It dribbled in red rivets down his arms and down the passenger side window. I remember this particular detail because I have no idea when or how his blood hit the glass.

Akabane was right about one thing. Blood is a very interesting substance. The right word for it is viscous. Shed just a few drops in the right pattern and it looks as if a man has exploded. But, Ginji had shed much more than a few drops of blood. He was very hurt.

I'll never forget that scene. His blonde hair was cold and matted with sweat. His voice didn't seem to too well work anymore – maybe because he was making awful rasping sounds with every breath. His face was ashen. It was almost the same off-white color of the leather seat his pale cheek was resting upon. I risked crashing the car so I could drive with one hand and comfort him with the other.

His fingers were cold against mine. They trembled almost imperceptibly. But, still, the idiot smiled. He complained bravely and I could barely hear him, "I'm so tired. This really sucks. Doesn't it?"

All I could think to say was, "Shut up, lamebrain. We're almost there. Try to stay awake." And it was more to calm myself than him. I had never seen so much blood. The steering wheel was slick with it.

At almost the exact same moment we pulled into the hospital parking lot Ginji's beautiful brown eyes slid apologetically closed. There was a hush when I entered the emergency room with limp Ginji in my arms. He was very heavy. I waited dumbly then doctors and nurses rushed over in a panic. I was uncharacteristically and mutely surprised. I don't know what I was expecting – a little more order maybe. I guess they were also impressed with the amount of blood Ginji had lost. We looked like hell.

I remember he looked worse in the incandescent light. His thick eyelashes were very black and very wet against his frighteningly translucent skin. I always thought it odd that he should have blonde hair and dark eyelashes. When they took him away from me I was told that I could not follow. Somehow, I did not know what to do then when all of the violent alarm was over. The room seemed too quiet and too calm. But, I didn't feel so well. I quietly found the bathroom and emptied the contents of my nervous stomach as discreetly as possible into the toilet.

And, while sitting on the cold tile floor I repeated a blessing for the first time since I was a child. It ended, "Lieber Gott wir danken Dir" and didn't help me any. I just felt stupid afterwards. So, I cleaned myself up as well as I could, adjusted my glasses so they would cover my eyes then sat out in the waiting room to fill out paperwork and worry.


	2. Chapter 2

People think Ginji is some sort of idiot. That is partially his fault because he walks around trustingly asking questions a grammar school graduate should be able to answer. But, Ginji isn't stupid. Ginji is far from stupid. In fact, he could be, in some ways, one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. However, he grew up without any formal education whatsoever. So, frankly, it's a miracle that he is literate.

I on the other hand, while mostly self-educated, had the opportunity to school myself in art and music, history, chemistry, physics, anatomy, biology, basic algebra through statistics and calculus, literature and the martial arts. I speak German fluently. However, I prefer Japanese. I have some college credits and I have traveled Europe. I am quick with numbers. I have numerous awards for essays I have written.

I'm also a perfectionist and a control freak. I'm extremely competitive. I have no idea how to share. And I never entirely learned how to get along with people. Specifically, I was never taught the value of a good first impression. I have always been a little bit edgy with new acquaintances.

So, Ginji astounds me. I think he could make it in this world depending solely on his sweet smile. I have not met anyone who truly does not like him. Any dislike of Ginji is fueled by jealousy, not an aversion to his personality. He is innately trustworthy. People follow him because he has a kind heart. Sometimes, I envy him for this. But, we are learning from one another.

For example, I started teaching him the names, locations and functions of the different bones, muscles and tendons in the human body in an attempt to make him a more precise fighter. And he started teaching me not to be afraid of his masculine touch. Admittedly, I'm a slow learner. But, he picks up new material quickly. His favorite bone – actually it is not properly a bone, only part of a bone – is the iliac crest. Every time he slides his hands along mine he tells me how beautiful he thinks they are. He tells me, "You have the most beautiful iliac crests I have ever seen." And I can't help but smile.

Before I met Ginji I was convinced that the only 'bi' I would ever be would be 'bilingual.' Sure, I'll acknowledge that I had a little bit of a man-crush on Yamato. But, that didn't really count for anything because I was still kissing Himiko behind his back. Also – and this only goes to support Shido's ever-growing case that I am a jackass – I'm loudly homophobic in public. Ginji hates it when I make fun of Jubei and Kazuki. And I hate it that I taught Ginji the meaning of the word _hypocrite_.

I spent all night thinking about Ginji with an odd sense that if I concentrated hard enough he would pull through. The doctors and nurses didn't keep me updated on his progress. In fact, they purposely avoided eye contact with me each time they bustled by. I'm used to this in people. Instinctually some know that even though my eyes are enchanting they are also dangerous. However, I couldn't help but worry that they had some terrible news and were too afraid to tell me.

For all I knew he was dead or had permanent brain damage from the oxygen deprivation his organs were sure to have suffered after losing so much blood. But, somehow, at some point I managed to fall asleep. When I woke up in the hospital waiting room with sunlight streaming across my face and a pigeon-toed doctor standing in front of me I had the feeling of being shaken from a nightmare.

He asked if I was with Ginji Amano. I nodded slowly, mentally bracing for the worst news. But, it didn't come. He only told me with detachment that, although Ginji had lost a little over third of his blood, they had been able to stop the bleeding before it got any worse. He was currently having a transfusion and, with rest, he would be fine. A strange dreamlike sense of relief flooded me.

I was barley listening when he told me that I should go home to get some rest too. But, I had a suspicion that I was making him uncomfortable by loitering around in the waiting room. So, I left just to make him feel better after asking when I could see Ginji.

There were still a few hours before the hospital was open for visitation. And I still had to deliver our recovered item to the client at the Honky Tonk. Outside I lit a cigarette and called the contact number I had been given to tell them that the job had been a success. They told me that they would meet me in a half an hour.

I did not want to look at the car. But, business is business and we would need money. I found a rag in the trunk and, after wetting it in a fountain nearby, began cleaning off the window and steering wheel and leather seats as well as I could. We would have to do something about the upholstery at the foot of the passenger side seat. I had to wring out the rag twice. The water was the same color pink as Ginji's cheeks when he blushes. It made a puddle on the sidewalk. Looking at it made me want to be sick.

So, I got into the car and drove away as quickly as possible. Miss Ladybug purred familiarly as I guided her down the streets and her noise calmed my nerves. Legal parking by the Honky Tonk was easy to find this early in the morning. After I stopped the car on a side street I changed from my ruined shirt into one of Ginji's. My shirt was bloody and torn. His shirt was soft cotton and it was too big for me and looked completely unprofessional. But, there was nothing I could do about it. I was supposed to meet the clients soon.

I brushed out my tangled hair without using the mirror. Ginji sometimes laughs at me because he thinks that it is odd that I should avoid my own reflection. I have never liked looking at myself. When I was a child I had the not completely irrational fear that if I met my own eyes I would accidentally get caught in a dream. I have a little more control over my gifts now. But, I still don't like to look into mirrors out of habit.

Our cargo was sitting peacefully on the back seat in a nondescript, white grocery bag. The plastic was covered in rust colored finger-prints. I opened the bag and looked at the piece. It would be a disaster if anything had stained it. Luckily, nothing had. So, I discarded the bag calmly as I walked down the street towards the café, leaving the windows rolled down in the hope that the acrid smell of Ginji's hurt would drift away from the car.

I entered the Honky Tonk tired and was greeted by Natsumi's customary cry of, "Welcome home!" It was Sunday. So, she was working. She is a nice girl. I suppose that her mother would be proud of her. There was a strange pause between us. She pointed with concern to my glasses. Her fingers are dainty and small like the rest of her. Ginji is convinced that I have a crush on her. That isn't true at all. I just like her smell – which is, I'll admit, very weird. She asked fearfully, "Is that brown stuff on your glasses blood?"

I responded honestly, "Don't worry. It isn't mine." There was so much of Ginji's blood everywhere. I hadn't noticed. I licked my thumb and wiped the lenses in a circular motion. They came clean easily.

Now she asked, "Where is Ginji-san?"

"He is resting." Ginji would have called that a lie. But, I call it damage control because, in a sense, it was true. Ginji was resting – resting in the hospital – and I did not have the energy or time to explain to Natsumi, who would surely be very concerned, what had happened.

"Oh," she nodded knowingly. "He must be tired." The answer seemed to have satisfied her because she trotted off to fill my favorite mug with coffee

The clients arrived right on time. I liked them. They were rich – and professional, an old married couple. Ginji had wanted to treat them – when he had met them – as grandparents. But, they wouldn't stand for it maybe, because they did not like the Japanese. They were from Korea. Ginji didn't understand.

Their case was simple. Their home had been robbed and something very precious had been taken from them, specifically a very old bojagi or wrapping cloth. In accordance to tradition they used the bojagi to cover their wedding documents. So, in that way it was very special to them personally.

However, it also happened to be a piece from the early to middle Choson dynasty which had fallen into their family's hands towards the end of the Choson reign around 1910. The embroidery on the piece was exquisite. I counted seven different types of stitches when I glanced at it. Collectors practically pissed themselves when they saw the opportunity to add such a piece to their wall.

I allowed the old man to inspect the cloth. He touched it delicately and found the piece to be in satisfactory condition. Flouting all rules of dignity and refinement, I counted the ¥ 1,500,000 he handed me – just to make sure it was all there. When they first offered that amount of money I was uncertain if we should take it. The job seemed like cake. Somehow, they had figured out that their bojagi had been transported to Japan and was traveling towards Tokyo to be sold at auction by the Mallet Company. They wanted us to retrieve their piece before it got to the auction hall and they were forced to bid on their own possession.

It had sounded easy enough. But, as usual we ran into some unexpected problems. So, I guess that we got paid the right amount in the end. The old couple wasn't much for hanging around and their Japanese only the fragmented bits they had learned when they were children. They excused themselves after refusing a cup of tea from Natsumi claiming that they had to catch a flight back home. I left soon after they did abandoning poor Natsumi to tend the barren café alone.

I decided to leave the care where it was – parked both legally and for free. I figured if I started walking right away I would make it back to the hospital in time to see Ginji. The yen was heavy in my wallet. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and enjoyed the feeling of knowing that, for the next few weeks at least we would be able to fill our stomachs with good food.

The streets became more and more congested with people as I neared the hospital. I stopped at a corner kiosk to buy a pack of cigarettes. For a moment I considered buying flower. But, I went the more practical route and bought fruit instead. I found the two plumpest, juiciest pears I could find.

It is strange to look back at this time. I remember when I first met Ginji he worried a lot and hardly ever smiled. When the corners of his mouth turned upwards no joy reached his expressive eyes. The look was more of an ironic, somewhat sad smirk than anything else. He reminded me of Yamato. But, where I failed with him I succeeded with Ginji.

The first occasion I recall seeing my Ginji's smile was about three weeks after I brought him out of Mugenjou. It was warm outside and he sighed. He sighed a lot back then. A man was selling apples on a street corner. And, while looking at that man, for one instant his countenance held the hungriest expression of want I had ever seen. But, when he noticed me looking at him he glanced guiltily aside, then down at his shoes. Out of curiosity I silently purchased two apples when Ginji's back was turned. I waited until we were a few blocks away from the fruit vendor before pressing half of my purchase into his surprised hand.

He stopped. I bit into my apple and coolly observed his reaction. Suspiciously, he asked, "For me?"

"For you," I nodded and pushed my sliding glasses up the bridge of my nose. His eyes gently melted and his sweet mouth broke out in an uncontainable grin. He was pure happy gratitude for the rest of the day. He ate that apple voraciously – almost like it was the first fruit he had ever sunk his teeth into.

It wasn't until later, when I recounted the story to Paul over a cup of coffee, that I learned how scarce produce is in the Infinity District. I should have known. Hardly any shipments of anything move in or out of Mugenjou. For the most part the people live off of military issue rations. The place is officially a disaster area. That apple could very well have been one of the first pieces of fruit – meaning fresh, unaltered fruit – Ginji ever had.

I chain smoked all the way uptown. When I reached the hospital I flicked the butt of my last cigarette into a flower bed near the main entrance. An old woman with her granddaughter gave me a dirty look. I smiled at them. The woman averted her eyes and hurried away in the opposite direction. At the front desk a nurse gave me a stupid tag to wear and had a porter guide me to Ginji's room.

It was a shock to see Ginji covered in blankets with an IV dripping fluids into his veins. The covers were pulled all the way up to his chin. All you could see of him was a messy blonde head. He was silently watching a cartoon flicker on a TV in the corner. I startled him by putting one of the pears on his covered chest. I wanted to say something like, 'I'm so glad you're okay.' But, all I could do was adjust my glasses to cover my eyes and stand over him as he looked welcomingly up at me. The only words that came to my lips when I opened my mouth were, "What's up with all the blankets, lightening rod?"

I pulled a chair over to his bedside as he simply explained, "I was cold." Ginji weighs more than I do. But, I somehow got the feeling that he was smaller than I am in that bed. He grinned now, "Do I look tough?"

There were stitches above his left eye and each of his fingertips were bandaged. He ate ravenously but, bit carefully as not to soak his digits with pear juice. His gloves sat on a table to my right. I did not see any of his other clothes anywhere. They had been ripped to tatters and had probably been discarded. I would need to go out and buy him something to wear when he was released from the hospital. His cheeks were still pale.

"I was just thinking," I chided. "That you look sort of pitiful."

He replied through a mouthful of pear. Already, there was almost nothing left of the fruit, "The nurses seem to like me."

Everyone likes you, Ginji. "They just feel bad for you because you are so pathetic. There is a difference."

"You're just jealous," he yawned and turned on his side towards me. His voice changed from playful to hopeful. But, it wasn't the shade of light, optimistic hope I was used to in Ginji. Rather, it was a worn hope – the kind that men cling to when they have nothing else left. I hadn't heard him speak like that for a very long time. The only thing he said was, "Ban-chan?"

"Yes?" He looked exhausted – not only physically but, emotionally. There was a frighteningly hard sheen in his eyes that he probably did not even realize was there. It said to me without speaking, 'Ban, I hurt. I am so very tired – tired of absolutely everything. What should I do? Tell me what I should do.' I wanted to reach out and hold him. I wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. It could have been simple. But, I did not know how.

"We got paid. Didn't we?" He blinked and his eyelids fell heavily then flitted softly open after a few moments. "I mean – they got their cloth and they were happy?"

"They were delighted, Ginji." He relaxed a little. "Now go back to sleep. You need to rest."

"But—" he opened his petulant lips to argue.

I interrupted, "Don't you even try to tell me that you aren't tired, Gin. You can barley keep your eyes open. Now," I insisted firmly because this is the only way he ever listens, "sleep."

He sighed, "You don't mind watching me sleep?"

"No. I don't mind watching you sleep." The bastard's soft smile at those words almost broke my heart. "I'll be here when you wake up."

He didn't speak anymore. He only closed his gentle eyes. His breathing evened and he dropped quickly and peacefully off to sleep. I leaned in then, when I was completely sure he was dreaming, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Gomen, Ginji. I should have been there to protect you."


	3. Chapter 3

I made Ginji a promise when we met. It was like this: I spared our lives under two conditions. The first being he had to follow me out of Mugenjou. The second was that he was to under no circumstances turn to Raitei without my express permission. Ginji did not like that idea. He told me that even if Raitei was a son-of-a-bitch he was also a damn good fighter and he had saved his life many times. I told him that I am a damn good fighter, too. I swore that he would never again need to turn to Raitei for protection because he would have me to protect him. Ginji agreed and left Mugenjou with me.

But, this time I failed to defend him. As I said before, the job seemed like it should have been an easy one. The piece had been transported to Japan and was traveling towards Tokyo to be sold at auction. The cargo was shipped, by boat, across the Korea Straight from Pusan to Fukuoka and it was being carried with about two dozen other valuable, antique art pieces. We guessed that security would be tight. But, we didn't think it would be anything that we couldn't handle.

So, we got in the car at about 4:00 in the afternoon and started heading down the coast. The plan was to intercept the caravan at a filling station about 40 kilometers south of Osaka where they were scheduled to stop to refuel at 8:00 that night. That is about 200 kilometers away from our home base in Shinjuku. Accounting for traffic I thought it should have taken us about two and a half hours to get there.

But, it took us a little more than three hours because we got lost leaving the city because Ginji gave me bum directions. I have no idea what I was thinking letting him hold the map. I had to pull the car over twice to have a look at it myself. So, I was supremely annoyed with him by the time we were on the right road. I had wanted to get there by 6:30 so we would have at least an hour and a half of wiggle room in case they were running early. But, that didn't look like it was in the cards.

To make matters worse, Ginji isn't good on long car rides. He sung along with the radio for about half the ride blatantly ignoring my open irritation. He knows I hate it when people sing over the radio. I clicked the radio off when we reached Osaka and smacked his hand every time he reached to turn it back on. So, he started humming off-key. Every time I asked him to stop he would ask, 'Stop what?' like he honestly didn't know what he was doing to bother me.

By the time we reached our destination at 7:15 he was driving me insane. I figured we had about fifteen minutes to spare before we had to hunker down and get ready for a fight. So, I pushed Ginji out of the car and insisted that he had to go to the bathroom. He looked at me with confusion and told me that he was fine. I told him that I would be damned if I let him fight with a full bladder. He again persisted that he did not have to go to the bathroom. I roared that if he did not leave me alone to go to the bathroom immediately I would hurt him very badly and then dump his body on the side of the road. He got the message and slunk quietly away from the car.

When I was sure he was gone I reopened the road-map to see where along the way we had gone wrong. I checked the clock on the dashboard. Five minutes had gone by. A truck startled me as it roared past. I had a very bad feeling about something. But, I told myself that it was just nerves. I lit up one cigarette, then another. When I checked the clock again I saw that another ten minutes had passed. It was half past seven. If everything ran according to plan the caravan was supposed to arrive in about a half an hour.

I started to wonder where the hell Ginji had gone. There was no sign of him anywhere. So, I got out of the car to look for him. I have a theory about why Ginji has no sense of direction. It has to do with electricity's effect on compasses. You see, a compass is just a magnet on a frictionless pivot. Because the Earth is also a magnet and opposites attract the 'southern' magnetic tip –or the colored tip– of the compass points towards the North-pole of the Earth or Magnetic North. However, when you run an electric current through a magnet it will point towards the positive flow of the charge. In other words, the needle is redirected because the difference in charge between the flowing electricity and the tip of the needle is greater than the difference in charge between Magnetic North and the tip of the needle.

All that aside, it was hard to believe that he could get lost on his way to the toilet. I mean it was a straight line from the car to the gas station. I thought he was somewhere pouting because I had yelled at him. I mused that the most likely place for him to be was the bathroom. I reached the door and – just to be dramatic and scare him out of his funk – kicked it down. I opened my mouth to swear at Ginji for being a passive-aggressive jackass but, met only a dark room.

The light automatically clicked on as I took a step inside. My heart dropped into my stomach and pounded with the realization that I had seriously fucked up. The mirror and the sink were splattered with blood. Ginji wasn't there but, there were two bloody, Ginji-sized handprints on the white tile floor. I shook my head with confusion. What was going on? Why hadn't I felt his scream? Had he screamed? Hands trembling with disgust I plucked a piece of paper off the floor. It was a note and it was addressed to me:

_Midou-kun,_

_Frankly, I'm sort of embarassed to be caught doing this incredibly boring work. To tell you the truth I was thinking about canceling the job. But, then I heard about your new mission and I thought that maybe I could squeeze some enjoyment out of this assignment._

_You're a very smart man. So, you should know this already. But, I'm going to refresh your memory anyhow. Ginji's body contains flat disk-like cells – that are stacked in a sequence in a manner similar to a battery throughout his body – called electroplaxes. Whenever he so chooses pacemaker neurons in him fire and acetylcholine is subsequently released from electromotor neurons to the electroplaxes, resulting in an electric organ discharge._

_Anyhow, do you know what's interesting about benzodiazepines in relation to all of this? I'll give you a hint, nobody is entirley sure how they work but, they impair motor function by massivly supressing the firing of neurons. It is used to help epileptics. And, it is also used before certain medical procedures – such as endoscopies – to reduce tension and anxiety, and in some surgical procedures to induce amnesia._

_I think the dose of diazepam I gave Ginji is having is effecting his electroreception. Poor thing can't seem to release more than the equivalent to a small static shock. But, he doesn't seem to mind. I think the medication is making him feel sort of giddy – drunk almost. He sure is cute. I think we'll have fun together._

_Kuroudo Akabane_

_PS Isn't Ginji's blood interesting? He only spilled a little bit of it but, somehow it looks like a man exploded in here._

Back in the car I lit another cigarette in the hope that nicotine would steady my nervous fingers. This could not be happening. I started the car and called Ginji's cell phone. When Ginji actually picked up I almost cried with relief, "Ginji, you dumbass, where are you?"

There was a distracted pause, panting and a whimper, "A truck – I'm in a truck."

Okay. I calmed myself. That was a good thing. I had seen only one truck pull out of the gas station. It had a white cab and a white trailer. Like a complete novice I hadn't bothered to get a look at the driver. His uniform would have tipped me off that that was the truck we were looking for – they were an hour early. I had planned for this and hadn't even realized it had happened. I pulled out onto the road, "Still there, Ginji?"

"Nope," a new voice which was not Ginji purred. "You sure are slow for a tactical genius. Know that? I was sure you would catch me in the act - completely and totally - sure. But, you didn't. It was the most excitement I've had in a very long time."

I tried to replace the fear in my voice with anger, "Listen, bitch-tits."

"Bitch-tits? That's creative," he interrupted with a laugh.

"Don't you dare even lay so much one of your filthy fucking fingers on Ginji," I continued – snarling.

"Too late," I heard him smile. "You know I'm the only one guarding this cargo. It's just me and the driver and Ginji in this truck. And the driver doesn't even know Ginji is here."

I knew he was deliberately provoking me and he was probably getting off on it. But, I was infuriated. I played right into him, "Fuck you. This is way too far you sick shit. I—" There was a muffled cry in the background. It echoed painfully in my head. "God! Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I find you?" I passed a car that was going 10 km/h over the speed limit.

"Well, if you just started driving you're about ten minutes behind us," the tone of voice was loving. He was probably caressing his scalpels and getting ready to do something horrible. I did not want to think about it. I felt totally powerless. I had just been completely outsmarted. Now something terrible was going to happen to Ginji. "And we're going about 135 km/h and that is pushing it as far as the speed limit goes. So, even if you drive at speed faster than that – which I don't suggest, there are a lot of cops on this road – you'll probably catch up to us in about an hour. So, I'm not worried about you finding me just yet. But – to answer your question – I think you'll probably do about the same thing to me as I'm doing to Ginji."

I ran the calculations through my head. The pervert was right. If I drove fast enough I would catch up to them in an hour about 16 kilometers outside of Shinjuku.

That wasn't the only thing he was right about. For the first time in a long while I wanted to inflict as much pain on a body as possible. I wanted to draw out his death. I wanted to tear his limbs off. I could see myself ripping his heart out with my bare hands and showing it to him. I panted, "Bastard." This was exactly the reaction he wanted from me.

"I'll take that as a _yes_. I'll be looking forward to it." I clung to the steering wheel with frustration. I'm surprised that I had the self-control not to crush it with my irate grip. "Do you want to talk to Ginji again? He is crying out for you."

I couldn't find a voice to answer.

"No? Okay. Well, you'll have plenty of time to talk later," the line went dead and there was nothing I could do but drive.


	4. Chapter 4

Ginji faded in and out of consciousness on Sunday. He woke up only when he was hungry – which was twice. I sat next to him almost all day. Whenever his eyes opened he would smile and say 'good morning' not because he was confused about the time but, because those are the first two things he does when he wakes up and sees me. It's like clockwork. First he smiles then he wishes me a good morning. Every single time he wakes up, even if it isn't morning. I can always trust Ginji to be steady.

In the afternoon I excused myself to run some errands. I woke him up before I left to tell him where I was going. He always gets nervous when he doesn't know where I am. I got lucky and made it to the seven day branch of the bank before it closed. Then I went to find a post office mail drop box. Paying cell phone and car insurance bills is unpleasant. But, we still had enough money left over to eat for the next few days or maybe get a hotel when I was done.

After that I went to find myself something to eat. Then I went to a consignment shop to see if I couldn't find Ginji something new to wear. My grandmother always said that I would get fleas if shopped in secondhand clothing stores. Partially to spite her and partially because Ginji and I are dirt poor but, mostly because I'm cheap, I make sure to patronize thrift shops every chance I get.

I managed to slip back into the hospital before it closed for visitation for the night. I thought that I was going to have to leave and find some place outside to sleep for the night. But, a redheaded nurse recognized me and told me that she would let me stay in if I kept very quiet. I agreed and found my way back into Ginji's room. He was still sleeping. I turned on the television and managed to stay awake until about midnight before the flickering lights lulled me to sleep with my arms folded as a pillow on the middle of Ginji's bed.

I woke up when something poked me. I sat bolt upright and snarled, "Leave me alone, damnit" before I had actually gathered the information necessary to determine where I was or who was prodding me or what they were prodding me with. I was in the hospital. It was morning. Ginji was poking me with my folded glasses.

He was urging in a hoarse whisper, "Wake up, wake up." Even with all that he had been through Ginji had an amazing recovery time. The cuts on his face and fingers were not yet fully healed. But, the color was back in his cheeks and the mischief had returned to his eyes. They smiled when he saw I was awake, "Good morning!"

I was not in the mood to be grateful that he was okay. I only swore at him and took my glasses back. I am absolutely vile in the morning. Before I get a strong cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette I see everything through a haze of unbridled restlessness and irritability. I have no idea how Ginji puts up with me. He is a saint, so fucking patient that it makes me want to curl over and die.

He brightly told me something along the lines of being ready to check out of the hospital after one final check up and I darkly muttered something about 'clothes' while pointing menacingly at the shopping bag which I had stashed next to the bed. I remember telling him as I left the room that he could find me outside the main entrance when he was done.

In the lobby I bought us breakfast and I bought myself a coffee. Afterwards I quietly retreated to the curb outside of the hospital. The street was crowded. But, people gave me plenty of space. I must have looked as grumpy as I felt. Between sips and drags I regained some semblance of coherent thought.

I decided that we needed a day off. In reality every day we didn't have an assignment is a day off. But, we need to go somewhere to relax. The beach would have been nice. But, I decided against it because Gin would probably get all sorts of salt and sand in his wounds.

I love the beach. I love the way Ginji smells after we've been in the water and the way he manages to get sand in his hair – even if it is annoying when he tracks it into the car. I could lie in the sun without moving for hours and be the happiest man in the world. Ginji thinks that it is weird not to want to build sand castles or go people watching or swimming. Ginji also gets better tans than I do. Specifically, my fair complexion burns in the same amount of time it takes his to turn a pleasant bronze. That lucky bastard – girls love his radiant skin. Chicks also dig scars. And I've got plenty of those where Ginji doesn't.

Someone interuppted my meditation by tapping me gently on the head. It was Ginji. I looked up at him. His blonde hair seemed to make a halo around his pretty head. With the sun lighting him from behind it seemed to glow against the cloudless blue sky. He grinned as if he did not remember anything of the tramua of the past few days, "Doctor says I'm healthy." He helped me up. I handed him his breakfast. "But, he gave me these to make sure I don't get an infection."

He tried to show me a bottle of pills. I told him that I wasn't interested because antibiotics don't have much of a street value. He didn't catch my sarcasm and he put the bottle away in his pocket. So, I lit another cigarette and dropped the subject. He ate his muffin silently then was unusually quiet for the next few blocks. He seemed to have been lost in thought, which is not unusual. But, I noticed after a bit that he was muttering something under his breath.

I gave him a sidelong glance and asked suspiciously, "Ginji, are you talking to yourself?" I was completely convinced that he had lost his mind.

He turned to me. My hearing is good but, I only caught about half of what he said, "Your kisses take me higher, like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky with burning love."

My glasses slid down my stupefied face, "Excuse me?"

"That's Shakespeare. Right?" His hansom brown eyes were completely trusting and just a little bit confused, "I told that cute redheaded nurse that and she laughed."

"Smooth, Ginji. Were you trying to pick her up? Because that isn't Shakespeare, goofball." I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "That's Elvis."

"Oh," as usual he breathed. "I understand." I wanted to ask what the hell had possessed him to quote Elvis to try to get a girl. But, he shamelessly changed the subject before I could say anything. He never ceases to amaze me, "What are we going to do today?"

I told Ginji that I had decided that we should go to the park. He was ecstatic. The park is just about as good as the beach because I can lie out in the sun on the grass. But, it is not as good as the beach because we have to keep our clothes on. It loomed in the distance. The closest entrance to us was alongside both the playground and the baseball diamond. Every time we pass that way children squeal, "Mr. Ginji! Mr. Ginji!" Children and animals love him. That must be why Shido likes him so much.

The kids usually all have something new to show him and if we aren't in too much of a hurry he stops to look. He kneels next to them and patiently tells them how wonderful this thing they learned in school or that thing they found under a rock is. Mothers used to be afraid of him – because there is something a bit odd about a grown man who hangs out with little kids. But, eventually they realized that Ginji is harmless. He doesn't try to make children like him, they just naturally gather around him. Kids are smart. They seem to know that, while he is gentle and kind, he is also very strong. I think they feel safe with him.

As I said, it wasn't Ginji who approached the children. The children just happened to approach Gin. Everywhere we go he attracts them like a magnet – I'm afraid that someday we're going to end up having one follow us and we aren't going to be able to get rid of it. Anyhow, one day we were canvassing the high-traffic area close to the entrance of the park with flyers looking for work. The kids kept hitting foul balls which would bounce towards us. I ignored them. But, Ginji would stop what he was doing, pick them up and throw them back.

I turned around for one minute to talk to some woman and when I turned back around Ginji was gone. I looked all around for him – I was afraid he had gotten himself lost – and when I finally found him on the pitcher's mound throwing softly for the kids and giving them advice about how to hit. I started to call him back. But, I found I couldn't. His blonde hair and brown eyes were shining and he looked very happy. So happy, in fact, that some days I make up excuses to go to the park when I know the kids are there just so I can watch him play.

Today was one of those days. As soon as we were ten paces into the park Ginji had gathered a flock of children. Ginji greeted each and every one of them by name. He tells me that one of the reasons that I have trouble getting along with people is because I make no effort to learn their names as soon as I meet them.

A little boy with brown hair clung to Ginji's hand and tugged as he looked up at him, "Mr. Ginji? Are you here to play with us?"

Ginji glanced at me – for approval, I guess. I nodded. He grinned down at the child and answered, "Of course I'm here to play with you! Why else would I be here?"

There was a chorus of joyful noises from the children. They all gently fought for his attention. He laughed. I love his laugh. His smile is so beautiful. It was such a relief to hear his laugh and see his smile. I had thought that he had suffered permanent damage. But, Ginji is stronger than I had realized. He knelt down, "Calm down, kidamles. One at a time." The raucous only grew louder. "One at a time – I said. I can't listen to all of you at once."

I stood a short distance off and watched them. After a while started to feel like some strange sort of voyeur. So, I adjusted my glasses to cover my eyes and looked away. I was just about walk off and find a nice spot on the grass to sleep on when something warm curled around the pinky and ring fingers of my right hand. It startled me. I almost jumped. I looked down and a stray little girl with dark eyes and dark hair was looking up at me. She couldn't have been older than five.

I very eloquently managed to express all of my thoughts with one word, "Ummm…"

She just stood there silently gazing up at me. Her eyes were so dark that I couldn't distinguish the iris from the pupil. So, I had a hard time deciding if she was cute or creepy. They shined wetly. I had no idea what she wanted from me. Maybe Ginji would know. I asked, "Don't you want to play with Ginji?" With my free hand I indicated the direction of Ginji.

She turned her cute, creepy eyes towards Ginji. Her grip loosened. I started to sigh with relief. Her grip tightened again. I swore under my breath. I hoped she didn't hear me. "Okay – you don't want to play with Ginji. Where's your mom?"

She gave me a blank look. I wanted to get rid of her. But, I'm definitely not the type of son of a bitch that just leaves a kid on her own. "Not here with your mom. Okay. How about your dad?"

Her expression didn't change. "Not here with dad, either. Maybe a nanny?"

She blinked. "No nanny. What? Are you here alone?"

I didn't get a response. "Kid. Who are you here with?" I spaced out the words slowly so she would understand.

She paused for a long moment then pointed up at me. "Me? You're here with me." I laughed nervously and looked desperately around for Ginji. But, he had made his way over to the baseball diamond and was dividing the kids up into teams. "Damn." That time I knew she heard me swear. "I guess you're right. You are here with me."

I took a step. She did not move. She had a death grip on my fingers. "Come on kid," I coaxed diplomatically. "We're just going to go to that bench right there and sit down until somebody comes to get you. Okay?"

After about a minute she followed. But, I had to walk very slowly because she took very tiny steps. It took forever to get to the bench.

I watched the first inning. Ginji pitched. He switches position at the end of every inning. So, that the teams are even and he doesn't hog any one position from the kids. It's sweet, really, the way he cares so much. I don't think the kids would mind if he just pitched the entire game. The little girl just sat there holding my hand. My palms were starting to get sweaty.

I rummaged around in my pocket and found my pack of cigarettes. I really need to cut down. It is starting to cost us a lot of money. I found my lighter. But, I had a hard time lighting with just my left hand because there was a slight breeze. When I finally lit I turned my head in the opposite direction of my charge and exhaled that way out of respect for her young lungs.

Ginji was at bat. He hit a home run and ran the bases grinning and laughing like a maniac. He always hits two home runs per game – one for each team. He seems obsessed with being fair. I think I could list the most important things in his life as food, the GetBackers, sex, the abstract ideas of justice and love and baseball.

I agree that the first five things on that list are important. But, I think baseball sucks. I played baseball with Ginji and the little kids once. I swear on my life it was one of the worst experiences I have ever had. Ginji let two of the older boys pick teams. Ginji was picked first. I was picked last. Allow me to repeat_: I was picked last._ Ginji thought it was a laugh riot. I think he told them to pick me last because he thought it would be funny. I didn't think it was funny.

Anyhow, I had never played baseball before and I thought hitting would be easy. But, Ginji threw the pitches to me super fast and I struck out all nine times I went up to bat. After the game was over I threw what I guess could be called a hissy fit and vowed that I would never play baseball with Ginji again. He pouted a little bit and told me I was a sore loser. But, I have kept good to my word and I haven't played one game of baseball since then.

The little girl's grip had loosened slightly. I looked over at her. She inspecting my hand closely, looking at my nails and my rings. She was concentrating on the ring which is shaped like a snake curling around my ring finger with two tiny, glinting sapphires for eyes. I softly commented, "You've got good taste, kid."

It is the only one I wear that is worth anything. She didn't reply. She just kept staring. I continued to speak even though I knew I might as well have been talking to myself, "My grandmother gave that to me. It belonged to my father. Me and him and that snake all have the same eyes." I lent down and lowered my glasses so she had a clear view of my eyes. "See?"

She got the same glazed over, inward gazing expression on her face as people do when they are about to fall into one of my Jagon. So, I adjusted my glasses and looked away. "When do you suppose they'll be done playing?" I finally got a reaction from her. She shrugged.

"Soon?" She nodded. It looked like she was right. The kids were all sluggish and tired. We sat in silence for the next few minutes. "I'm hungry." She didn't say anything. I had an idea, "How about a magic trick?"

I hid a 100 yen coin in my hand, pretended to fish around somewhere behind her ear then pulled it out with a flourish. I'm so lame, "Wow! Look what I found."

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. I guess I scared her. Tears welled up in her eyes. I urged, "Hey, hey, hey. Don't do that." The tears fell heavily down her cheeks. She let go of my hand. I reached out and wiped the tears off of her cheeks with my sleeve. "Don't do that. I'm sorry. I know. Magic sucks. I shouldn't have done that." She started wailing loudly.

I had no idea what to do. I looked desperately around for Ginji. I didn't see him anywhere. The baseball diamond had cleared out and was completely barren. I looked back down at the little girl. She just kept crying. I felt like people were staring at the two of us. I really didn't have any idea what to do.

"What happened? I thought you two were friends," strangely when I glanced up again and Ginji was standing next to me, gazing down at me and the little girl with confusion. He immediately reached out scooped the girl away from me.

"I don't know," I threw up my defeated hands and growled with frustration.

He ignored me, "Aw, sweetheart. Don't cry. Did mean old Ban-chan scare you? He is a scary dude, you know. He scares me sometimes, too. But, he isn't that bad. He isn't a bad guy. He is just scary sometimes."

He smiled to himself, "He doesn't mean it. That is just the way he is." She had stopped crying and hiccupped wetly. I had the feeling that it wasn't the words that she was listening to but, the tone of his voice. It was very soothing. She clung to his broad shoulders with her tiny fists.

He continued, "He wants to be your friend. Are you done crying now?" She nodded against his neck. "That's better." He put her down then squatted to her level. He didn't have any tissues. So, in a completely disgusting, yet somehow endearing gesture, he wiped her nose with his fingers then brushed them against his shorts, "Ew. Snot. That's what happens when you cry."

He ruffled her hair, "Now. Go give Ban-chan a kiss and then find your brother. He is waiting for you by the water fountain." She climbed up on the bench, gave me a kiss on the cheek and ran away.

Ginji turned to me as if he hadn't just appeared out of nowhere and performed a miracle, "Are you hungry? Because I'm starving."

"Yeah," I murmured. "I'm hungry."

I let Ginji decide where we should eat. We ended up going to someplace with silverware and milkshakes because Ginji really likes milkshakes and we do this thing with the silverware to amuse ourselves whenever we go to this particular restaurant. As we are walking to be seated Gin surreptitiously uses his magnetic power to pick up the forks from each of the tables we pass. When we sit down he lines them up and magnetizes them.

Then we order. We both ordered cheeseburgers. I ordered a coffee and he ordered a strawberry milkshake. When the waitress walked away I cracked my knuckles and started. I build structures out of the forks – towers and bridges and such – while Ginji narrates. People give us dirty looks because we're kind of loud. But, we get a kick out of our game. So, I suppose that it doesn't really matter what they think.

Ginji folded his gloved palms onto the table and rested his head on top of them, "Today Ban Midou—"

"The Great, Invincible Ban Midou – world's strongest architect," I corrected.

Gin rolled his eyes and amended, "The Great, Invincible Ban Midou – world's strongest architect will build—what are you building, Ban-chan?"

I twirled a fork between my fingers as I thought, "I don't know. You decide."

"The Great, Invincible Ban Midou – world's strongest architect will build … a tower made of forks."

I tapped the fork on the table, "I dunno. Didn't we make a tower last time?"

Ginji nodded, "Yeah. We did. But, it only had ten forks. This one should have twelve."

That was going to be a challenge. I smiled, "Good point."

I made the base out of four forks, splayed out like the legs of a chair and joined at the top by their prongs. Ginji counted, "Four."

I pressed another four forks together by the prongs and clipped them to the base. This time, instead of splaying out the ends of the forks, I made them come together like the petals of a closed flower. Ginji doesn't know it but, I cheat a little bit by pinching the prongs of the forks closed with my right hand. They stick better like that. And I don't really care that the busboys hate me because two of them have to work together to pull the silverware apart when I'm done with it. He narrated, "Eight. Four more."

I stuck two more forks in the top of the structure where the ends of the four forks I had just attached to the base, "Two more. Where are you going to put them?"

I held the two remaining forks in my left hand, "I can't decide."

"Balance them on top," Ginji suggested.

"Okay. Give me a drum roll." He beat a drum roll with a couple of straws on the table. He has a wonderful natural sense of rhythm. He can dance and move his feet and hips and hands to all different times in the music. Making a good beat isn't hard for him. But, somehow that is the only musical quality he has in him. He is totally tone deaf. So, it irritates my trained ear off when he hums or tries to sing.

I bent the prongs of two forks together and carefully balanced them on top. It looked for a second as if they were going to fall. They tipped, slowly turned and stayed. Ginji cheered. I laughed. We admired our work.

The waitress came by and dropped Ginji's milkshake down on the table. Our eyes met. I knocked over the tower lunging for Ginji's drink. Forks spilled loudly across the floor as I sucked greedily at the strawberry shake. Ginji protested, "That's mine, you greedy bastard." He smacked me about the ears. One would think that after all this time he would have learned to keep his eyes on me.

I released the drink and shoved it towards him. He looked sadly at what was left of it, "Why didn't you order your own?"

"I didn't feel like it," I swirled a spoon around in my coffee. He sat there silently. I relented, "Get another one. I promise I won't touch it."

"That's a damned lie," he was right. I was lying. But, strawberry milkshakes are good. I can't help myself. He swirled the whipped cream around in the bottom of his almost empty glass with his straw. He was quiet for longer than I had expected. He suddenly changed the subject. I was totally unprepared, "Hey, Ban-chan, what exactly happened the other day?"

My high heart sunk. He couldn't be serious, "You mean you don't know?"

"I remember _some_ things," his eyes were veiled with thick, black lashes and they did not look up from where his hands were fidgeting.

"Oh," I breathed heavily. The syllable hung in the air between us. I did not know what to say. I did not know how to approach telling him. My mouth was dry and when our food came neither of us were hungry anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Hello everybody who is nice enough to read this. I forgot for the past few chapters. But, I have to thank my betas chibichibik, silverstrings, and steffilump. Thanks!

Warning:In thischapter Banmentions sex with both males and females. Andhe uses foullanguage.

* * *

I sat at the bar in the Honky Tonk with Ginji and his friends, the String Roller and Monkey Boy, stirring my coffee in much the same way I had three days earlier when I told Ginji that maybe it was better if he did not remember what happened. He did not like that answer. He insisted on being told. So, I told him. I told him that there had been no heroics. I did not bring any of the harm I had planned in that long, awful car ride down upon Akabane. I did not forcefully take Ginji back. He was given back to me like a little rag doll, like a borrowed toy.

I was twenty kilometers outside of Shijuku. I had the truck in my sight and I was surprised when it suddenly stopped. I squinted through the darkness and saw two forms stumble out onto the road side. They were silhouetted against the bright lights of the distant city. Only one climbed back into the truck. As it pulled away I sped up.

I found Ginji a little ways off from where the truck had paused. He was staggering lamely up the road. I parked the car and yelled for him to stop. He didn't. The halting stride of his step was similar to that of zombies or the undead in second rate horror flicks. Gravel crunched underfoot when I ran to catch up with him. He didn't notice me until I reached out and grabbed him.

Then he turned to me, he murmured my name, but, I don't think he really saw me standing there next to him. No light of recognition reached his drugged eyes. There was no spark in them. There was no life in them. Literally, they were the eyes of a dead man – brown and glazed over like those of a day old fish at the market. I gasped his name back at him. He only held out his bloody hands to offer me a heavy, white plastic grocery bag.

There was another folded note pinned through the cloth of his ruined vest. It wasn't until I heard his whimper at the pin being pulled out that I realized that the needle had also pierced skin. The note read:

_Sorry to do this, but I have a job as well. As you can see, Ginji has some nasty cuts, some very strategically placed cuts. He is bleeding. And at the rate he is losing blood he probably won't last for more than ninety minutes. Also, diazepam has a half-life of about one hundred hours. In other words, Ginji won't be doing his healing trick anytime soon._

_It really is astounding that he is still standing. I can see why you like him. I'm envious of you, Midou-kun. You really have found yourself an excellent partner. Now, however, he needs medical attention. Do yourself a favor and don't follow me. I we'll have plenty of time to fight sometime soon. I expect you'll be looking forward to it as much as I am._

_PS: I'll have you know that I gave Ginji what you are looking for. Hopefully my clients won't be too upset. This cloth is definitely not the most valuable piece in this shipment. But, still, I'm risking my reputation because he begged. And how can anyone with a heart deny Ginji something he asks nicely for?_

I tore my shirt and bandaged his wounds. I had to hold him still. He was moving so much. I think he had somehow gotten the idea into his drugged head that he could make it all the way back to Shinjuku on his own power. Akabane was right; there was no way that I was going to catch up with them and Ginji desperately needed a doctor, so I carried Ginji to the car. For the second time that day all I could do was drive.

Even though neither of us had much of an appetite after discussing the incident Ginji took the news without any theatrics. He did mention having memory of some events. I have the feeling that he already knew, that he had already pieced together what had happened.

He is still all smiles and sunshine. But, I'm worried about him. I gained back my appetite on Tuesday, but he has not been eating as much. I don't mean that he doesn't want second helpings. I mean he doesn't even finish his first. Food doesn't taste as good if we don't fight over it. I am very worried about him.

Apparently, I'm not the only one. When Ginji got up from his half-eaten sandwich and announced with a smile that he was going for a walk, Kazuki smiled demurely back at him over his tea cup and asked, "Aren't you hungry? It isn't like you to waste food."

Ginji insisted brightly. "I'm plenty hungry. But, today is a nice day and I'd like to go for a walk. Besides, I'm not wasting it. I bet Ban-chan will eat it."

He left. Our heads turned as he walked out the door. When it snapped closed and we all looked at the sandwich in question as if it were carrying the plague. Shido glanced towards me as if wondering if I would actually eat it.

The smile melted off of Kazuki's face as soon as Ginji was gone down the sidewalk. He clicked his teacup down on the saucer. I have no idea how but, his graceful hands somehow imbued that simple gesture with concern. "I don't think Ginji-san is well."

Shido pushed the straw around in his soy smoothie. He only drinks that crap because he is a vegetarian and it is the only way he can get protein. I don't mind vegetarians. Really, I don't. But he is such a dick about it.

For example, last time we were hanging out with him also happened to be a day on which we had gotten paid. Ginji and I had gone to the grocery store and Ginji bought – for some reason beyond my comprehension – the biggest bag of marshmallows he could find. With his mouth full he offered Shido a marshmallow. Shido shook his head and answered that he wouldn't eat one because marshmallows have gelatin in them. When Ginji asked what gelatin is Shido simply answered, 'Gelatin is a nearly tasteless and odorless substance which is created by prolonged boiling of animal skin, connective tissue or bones.' Ginji doesn't eat marshmallows anymore.

Shido took a long sip of his drink, hunched forward in his chair, sighed and announced without taking his eyes off of the counter. "He probably had an argument with some _girl _he's _dating_. I think that she should put her '_big girl'_ panties on and go apologize."

I tensed. I wanted to grab him and spit something along the lines of, 'Listen, butt wipe, you have no idea what happened. So if you want to pick a fight with me come out and say it. I'll just have to kick your ass – again.' But, I didn't. Frankly, even though I know everyone knows the way I feel about Ginji, I don't think I'm entirely ready to come out and say it. The idea of being in love with another boy is still weird to me.

I grabbed Ginji's abandoned sandwich off the plate and stuffed the entire thing in my mouth to say, 'Bite me' without actually speaking the words aloud.

Shido got the message. He spat, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

It was hard to reply with my mouth full of food. "She tried."

"You're really disgusting," he continued.

I couldn't think of anything better to say than, "Shut up."

"You shut up," he growled. "And don't talk with your mouth full."

Both of us were startled when Kazuki snapped, "The two of you need to grow up." His bells jingled with disappointment. "I'm going to find Ginji-san."

"Wait," I got up and cut Kazuki off, partially because I did not want to look like a scolded child but, mostly because he was right. Ginji was in no state to be moping around alone. I swallowed. "I'll go get him."

Our eyes locked for a long moment before he backed down. "He went left."

I went left. But, other than that I had no clue where he went. I checked a couple of bars that usually kick us out because we're underage. He wasn't in any of them and, thank God, nobody had seen him there. Second, I checked around all of the park benches that have views of billboards advertising women's panties. He wasn't at any of them. Finally, I looked for him in from of the electronics display windows where he gawks at things that we can't afford and he probably shouldn't touch. I struck out. He wasn't there either.

I decided to head back to the Subaru, mentally cursing him the entire way for being so damn unpredictable. I was surprised when I saw him, sitting on the sidewalk, leaning up against the car. He was staring dully down at the little pink marks on his fingers where his cuts had been. I roused him from his trance by tapping him sharply on his head, "Hey, Dumdum. Are you okay? I was looking all over for you."

He started guiltily before looking up at me with a wince and a smile, one hand buried in his thick hair and rubbing the spot I had tapped. I guess I was a little rough.

"I'm fine. I just kind of got lost on the way to the bakery. So, I came here to wait for you."

He was obviously not fine. But I didn't push him. Some fights are not worth picking, especially in public. Besides, I don't know it that would have made him feel any better. I'm totally hopeless in situations like this. If he doesn't tell me in explicit detail what he needs then I have no idea what to do. So, I just wait for some hint or sign from him. It's been difficult these past few days. He's behaving oddly: everything is hidden behind a smile. I wish he would just tell me.

"You came here or you happened to stumble upon this spot when you were looking for the Honky Tonk?" I leaned up against the car and lit a cigarette. I didn't wait for his reply. "Do you still want to go to the bakery? I'll take you there." I don't have a sweet tooth like he does, but I would do just about anything to make him feel better.

"No," he sighed. "I'm not really hungry anymore."

"Well, what do you want to do?" I knew we should be trying to land another job. But there's only so much advertising you can put out there.

"Take me for a drive, Ban-chan."

I could feel myself grin, "Good idea."

We put the top down and turned the radio up. I let Ginji pick the station. I'm glad that Ginji enjoys joy rides as much as I do because we've poured a lot of money into this car with the excuse that it was for business. I whipped around turns, disobeyed traffic laws, made lewd gestures to the people in the cars I wove through and had myself a boyishly good time.

But Ginji just sat there with his fingers laced together behind his head looking disinterestedly out the window. He wasn't white knuckled or telling me to be nice or laughing or anything. He was just sitting there, staring off into outer space like he had no idea what was going on – like he just didn't care at all.

That made me nervous. So, I did the only thing I could. I reached over and punched his shoulder. "What's the matter with you?"

He just looked at me like he used to when I first met him and had made a rude joke about someone or something that he didn't think was funny. "What do you mean?"

I sped up. "What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean why are you just sitting there like a lump?"

He shrugged. "I was just thinking. That's all."

"I'm the one that does the thinking in this operation," I joked.

He didn't laugh and the smile that broke over his features was weak. "How are we looking with money?"

"What? Good, why?" I can usually gauge his sporadic movements, but for the past few days he has been completely unpredictable.

One of the naked fingers of his gloved hand point out the window at a motel. "Pull over."

I blinked slowly, completely exasperated with his odd behavior. "One bed or two?"

"One – we're poor."

I pulled over and we got one bed. I assumed that he was just tired and wanted to sleep. But again, I was mistaken. As soon as we got into the room he fell down and pulled me on top of him. I was confused, but I didn't question. I gave him what he wanted. For a long while we just lay with one another and kissed like two awkward, shaking teenagers.

Usually in bed he's dramatic, loud, greedy and demanding. When I do something he likes he tells me – loudly – that he wants more. When I do something that he doesn't like he makes sure I know. And he's always insisting that if I'm really the World's Strongest Man that it should be easy for me to fuck him standing up. Also, he often calls me clingy because I prefer to do it in positions where I can easily see his eyes and kiss his lips. We tear into one another like we tear into our opponents on the battlefield. It hurts. But it's worth it.

So I was bewildered on this day by the neediness of his tongue and his hands. Somewhere I lost my glasses and he lost his gloves. We both lost our shirts. I kissed roughly down his neck. He trembled, covered his face and looked at me through the cage of his perfect fingers. I enjoyed the clean taste of his skin with my smoky mouth and he gasped wetly.

He isn't like Himiko or most of the other girls I've been with. He'll tease a little. But he is proud of his body and he is open about what he likes. So when I go to touch between his legs he lets me. He doesn't get scared and grab his shirt then leave me all hot and bothered to take care of myself like some people I've known.

But this time, through the dizzy haze of endorphins I did not understand his mumbled plea of, "Stop." He chanted, "Stop, stop, stop," and tensed up. I slowed, but I did not stop. I licked the tight skin that pulls over his hips. He shivered. He cried, "Ban-chan! Stop it!" and his voice had the same torn tone as a cloth bandage being ripped off of a fresh wound. I stopped.

Ginji does not cry because he is weak. He cries because he as such strong emotions and he cries when he is fighting the dark, cold parts of himself. I was very, very afraid for him. And I was very afraid that there was nothing I could do to help. This wasn't a situation where I could just slap him out of it to make everything better.

He was trembling uncontrollably. Another sob ripped out of him with the words, "Oh, God. God. Stop. Please." Two large tears stained his beautiful cheeks. He curled away from me and held his arms over his chest like he was in physical pain. He looked like a hole had been sliced into his heart and the light of his hot, living soul was spilling out through it into the darkness. I could see that he was trying desperately to keep his sweet spirit out of the cold, but his eyes had already lost their warm glow.

I haltingly tried, "Do you need to talk about it?" and pathetically reached for my glasses to hide behind.

He choked, "Ban-chan, I hurt. Maybe, if I could do it again. It—I." I just looked at him. So he looked away and gasped, "I'm so tired. What should I do? Tell me what I should do."

I didn't know what to say to that but I had an idea. "Look. I understand if you need to take a break from the recovery service and get a temp job."

He snapped electricity back at me without looking up. His voice cracked like a tree struck by lightning. They were Ginji's words. But, they were spoken in a voice that was not entirely his. It was angry. It was completely devoid of hope. And it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "Don't say that, Ban-chan. This is all we've got and you know it."

I knew he was about to break completely. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. But I didn't back down, "Hey, hey, hey. Ginji, chill. I'm sorry." He didn't look at me. "Do you need me to hold you or something?"

Except for the shaking and the gasping his voice returned to normal. He forgave me quickly and smiled, but no joy reached his sad, lightless eyes. "You really suck at comforting people."

I pulled him into my lap and forced his head down against my shoulder. "Shut up, dumbass." He pulled himself together quickly. I wiped the snot out from under his nose with my fingers. He looked like shit. I could tell that he wasn't done crying.

But he retreated to the bathroom before I could say anything, breathing something along the lines of, "I feel so fucking flithy." I let him go even though I knew when the shower turned on that he was in there sobbing.

My poor Ginji; something was stolen from him that I am not sure we can get back. We will both die with out his light and warmth. I can only hope that we are strong enough to pull through this. And I can only pray that his sunny, trusting disposition has only been eclipsed – not extinguished.


	6. Chapter 6

Ever since that night in the motel when I ripped Ginji's heart unceremoniously and unwittingly open he has been acting more and more like he did when I first met him. He smiles. But, no light reaches his eyes. He laughs. But, the sound is bitter instead of joyful. He lied to me when he told me that he did not remember anything. I pretend to be angry and indifferent. But, really, I'm frightened.

When I first met Ginji I knew he had a sweet soul. Only he kept it behind a locked door. Getting to know him was a simple matter of coaxing that door open. It wasn't hard – we have both had sad lives, we both know what death looks like and we both know what it is to be lonely. And I guess he did the same for me that I did for him.

Slowly he opened to me and slowly I realized just what a treasure he is. I made my home in his heart. I bathed in its beauty, slept cloaked in its warmth and consumed its lovely, trusting radiance.

So I have the notion that the sinking feeling I got in my stomach – in that room, in that bed – when I ripped the door to Ginji's heart open is similar to what our clients feel when they return home to find their dwelling ransacked. The walls still stand. The kitchen still has a sink. The bedroom still has a bed. But, the rooms have been turned upside down. They have been ripped apart by uncaring and unfamiliar hands. Important things have been taken. The safety that was _home_ no longer is because an unwelcome stranger has trespassed there – in that secret space.

Ginji still stands. But, he is empty of warmth. His trust has been shattered. His beauty is hiding. The observations he makes about people are no longer kind. However, they are not unkind. They are simply – empty, devoid of emotion.

For example, the other day at the Honky Tonk I inhaled my sandwich. He turned to me with his cheek resting on the heel of his hand and asked with disinterested eyes, "Ban, you ever consider eating competitively?"

The sad part was that I actually thought it might have been a good idea before I realized how insulted I was, "Shut up, man."

Emishi laughed behind the counter. Paul let him take up a part time job in the café because Natsumi asked nicely. She has Emishi so whipped. It's pathetic. He'll work her hours so she can hang out with her friends then turn around and spend all of the money he makes on her. I think he really likes her though. He isn't just looking for sex. He always talks about what beautiful hair she has with this weird dreamy look in his eyes. I guess where he comes from hair is an important feature for a woman.

The room grew quiet. Emishi suggested, "Why don't you eat your grilled cheese, Ginji-han?"

Ginji pushed the plate away, "I don't want it."

"What?" Emishi exclaimed dramatically. "I risked my life to make you that sandwich."

Ginji didn't laugh. I have no idea why Paul would employ someone with flammable blood to cook over a gas range. It's beyond me. Natsumi must have asked really nicely. I excused myself to go feed the meter. Lately Ginji has been getting really pissed off at my erratic driving and irresponsibility with concern to parking the car. As much as it annoys me that he is so pissy I didn't want another argument on the way to the police station to pick up the car.

I heard footsteps following me down the sidewalk. Emishi hurried to catch up with me. I paused and looked at him. I could tell that he was looking for a fight, even if he didn't realize it. His left hand was tensed and ready to draw his whip. I ignored the dirty look he was giving me through his sunglasses and lit a cigarette.

I clicked my lighter closed, "You want to fight me or something, Clown?"

He gathered his whip in one hand as if he thought I was going to attack him first, "No."

I started walking away, "Okay, then."

He stood there for a moment, confused I guess, before he called after me, "What the hell is your problem?" I ignored the question. He caught up to me again. We walked for about a block in silence before he accused, "You're hiding something, Midou."

I pushed my sliding glasses up the bridge of my nose. If Emishi has anything going for him it is the fact that he has balls, "What gives you that idea?"

He cut right to the chase, "He is losing weight." There was not the usual hint of laughter in his voice.

I replied, "Oh." The syllable hung heavily between us. When we got to the car I quietly fed the meter. Emishi was still standing there when I was done. I grunted, "What?" in the hopes that he would leave me alone.

His strange turquoise eyes were very frustrated behind his blue lenses, "What do you mean what?"

"If you want to know so badly go ask Ginji yourself," I hissed the same way a cornered snake does when it is about to strike.

"You don't think I haven't done that already?" there was a soothing tone to his voice but, he still provoked as if annoyed that we would not let him in on what had happened.

My heart sunk slightly. I tried not to sound too interested, "What did he say?"

The look on his face melted from frustration to brotherly concern, "He said that he was very say. He said that he just wanted to be sad for a little bit."

I saw my opportunity and struck. "And you couldn't just leave it at that?" I concluded viciously. I was not in the mood to have a heart to heart. Ginji's recent coldness was getting to me. Without him calming me I have a very short fuse. "Why are you still bothering us?"

That got to him. He stomped his dancer's foot angrily, "You know exactly what I'm bothering you."

"Yeah?" I flicked my cigarette butt away.

"Yeah!" He pointed with his whip, "You're withholding information."

"Get that thing out of my face," I batted it away. "And give me one good reason why I should tell you anything."

"Okay," he sighed. "Whatever it is you're dealing with with Ginji isn't something that you can take on all by yourself. I mean – he needs support – I think even if you don't." He paused emotionally. He is such a touchy-feely 'family above all else' son of a bitch. "He's family. You don't just leave family."

"Good point," I lit another cigarette.

He looked surprised. He did have a point though, "So, you'll tell me?"

I folded my sunglasses, "I'll show you."

He looked distrustful for a moment. I encouraged roughly, "Come on. Don't be such a pussy. I won't hurt 'cha. Besides," I smiled, "this is the only way that I'll tell you."

He sighed once again as he removed his sunglasses, "You just love to be difficult. Don't you?"

"This is going to be a little intense. You should sit down."

He rolled his eyes and sat down with his back leaning up against the Subaru. I squatted in front of him and gathered my thoughts.

Emishi interrupted, "What's taking so long?"

I growled, "Shut up. You're breaking my concentration."

He was quiet for a moment, "Is it really that hard?"

"Yes," I hissed. "It is. Now be quiet. You're worse than Ginji with your stupid questions." I closed my eyes. When I opened them I announced, "Okay. I'm ready."

Our eyes met and I have him my piercing look. It is hard to describe what it feels like to give the evil eye – about as hard as describing color to a blind child. I could the the child how the eye sees color. But, I could not describe what the color red looks like. So, I can explain the mechanics of it. I think about a series of images in my head, like a movie or a story, then I do it. We connect. I burn the images from my mind onto theirs. They look into themselves for a minute. Then it's over.

For lack of anything better to do I timed Emishi on my pocket watch. When the minute ran I asked, "How was it?" just to make sure he came out of it okay.

He just swore dully, "How long ago?"

"Three weeks."

He had a murderous look in his eyes, "What are we doing just sitting here?" he implored. "We gotta go find this bastard."

I sighed, waiting for him to catch on, "No, that is exactly what we aren't going to do."

He stood, whip in hand. The glint in his eye and the way his pony-tail flared out behind him made him look like an angry dragon, "Where I come from we don't let men get away with rape. In fact, traditionally, we gouge out their eyes, strip them naked then leave them alone in the desert to die."

"Well," I put my glasses back on. "As satisfying as that sounds, where I come from we think about things before we go out and do them."

"What's there to think about?" he persisted.

I gave up trying to get him to draw the obvious conclusion on his own and fed it to him, "This pervert likes his victims fighting. Right?"

"So?" he lowered his tensed arms.

"So, Ginji wasn't fighting. Was he?"

"I'm sure he was. But, not the way he would have been if he weren't drugged."

I started walking back towards the Honky Tonk, "Exactly."

"Exactly?" Emishi repeated slowly. "Wait. I don't get it."

"You're really slow. Akabane likes it when his victims fight back. That is what he gets off on. He had ample opportunity to fight me at that filling station. Fifteen minutes is a lot of time in hand to hand combat. You know that. He could very well have picked a fight with me then. But, he didn't. He deliberately took Ginji. This was something he planned."

Emishi interrupted, "You think he is fucking with us?"

He finally got it, "There you go, Ace. He wants us to fight him. What better way to pick a fight than to harm Ginji? He has some very good fighters backing him up."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to wait until Ginji gets better."

He blinked owlishly, "You think he'll just better if we wait?"

I grinned, more to make myself feel better than anything else, "Have some confidence in him! He's Ginji for God's sake. He just needs time. He'll figure it out." I brashly offered, "Give him three weeks. What do you want to bet that he'll be right as rain in three weeks?"

He murmured, "What an awful bet." Then he grinned back at me, "A weeks worth of wages?"

We shook hands, "Done."

Emishi suddenly said, "You know it wasn't your fault."

I guess I had given him a little bit too much insight into my feelings with that dream. I let go of his hand as I felt heat rising in my cheeks, "I'm warning you man."

He just laughed, "And I never knew you felt that way about Ginji. I mean, wow. I got the feeling that you two were more than just friends what with all the, 'GetBackers forever and ever and ever stuff. But, butt buddies? Not that I have anything against that. Whatever you're into."

"Ah! Shut up!" It was a full blow blush now. "Just shut up."


	7. Chapter 7

I sat on the outside of the bathroom door with my back to the wall trying to coax Ginji out, "Come on. It's not like I've never seen you naked before."

I had been sitting outside so long that I had gone so far as to order sushi as incentive for him to emerge. That didn't work. It was laying, discarded, on the nightstand. I was growing impatient.

He whimpered from the other side, "Ban-chan, this isn't funny. Give me my clothes back."

"Who says I'm joking?" I took a long drag at my cigarette, "You'll get your clothes back sometime after you come out."

I won the bet with Emishi two months ago. But, I should have lost on a technicality. For the first twenty days of the bet nothing changed. He was like a collapsing star. The colder he became, the more inwardly he drew, and the closer the people who rotate around him came. Everyone wanted to get a light laugh or a warm smile out of him.

Paul played music in the Honky Tonk that he knows Ginji likes to dance to. But, Ginji wouldn't dance. Natsumi slipped him treats which he ignored. Hevn wore low cut tops and short skirts and he didn't look. Emishi made jokes and he didn't even pretend that they were good. He didn't respond to any of Makubex's e-mails. Kazuki started conversations with him but he wouldn't listen. Jubeei would try to share silence with him. But, he would walk away.

However, on the twenty-first day, as if he knew the nature of the bet between Emishi and I, he burst free of his dark spell. It was as if a window had open in him and he was seeing the world for the first time. I knew he would return to me eventually. But, the radiance of his smile was blindingly brilliant that morning when he woke up.

I did not question although, his sudden change caught me by surprise. It was like getting caught staring directly into the sun at the end of an eclipse. You realize that the darkness will end. But, you can never tell when the sun will slip warmly back into view. He caught me by surprise in the same way.

That day he took the Honky Tonk by storm. Kazuki and Jubeei left in the middle of his animated reenactment of out last mission. I don't blame them. He hardly came up for air.

Kazuki turned to Jubeei as they were leaving and gasped, "I think my ears are bleeding."

Jubeei turned back to him and asked with concern, "Honestly?"

He consumed an entire strawberry pie then broke a teacup as he danced around the café. Shido turned on his heel and left the moment he saw what kind of mood Ginji was in, like a dog that retreats to a corner after he senses that his tail is going to be pulled by a hyperactive child. Finally, I had to drag him out kicking and screaming when he mistakenly fried Hevn's palm pilot because it was going too slow as he tried to compose an e-mail to Makubex. He wanted to apologize. I did not want to foot the bill.

A light had clicked back on somewhere in him. However, privately, he was still mourning. He took long, scalding hot showers and he did not allow me to see him naked. He avoided mirrors almost like I do. And when girls made eyes at him on the street he shifted uncomfortably, instead of making a fool of himself like he used to. He wouldn't let me help him. He was keeping me on the other side of a locked door.

For a while I thought that was all well and good. He was hurt in a way that I cannot even begin to understand. He had every right to mourn. I allowed him to make whatever advances he wanted, let him open up slowly. But, it dawned on me, that he has been hurt in two ways. He was hurt at his core, in that way I cannot understand and that hurt was making him afraid to trust me, or anyone for that matter.

One of his greatest strengths is the trust he has in people. In his eyes everyone is good. Right now, he is just afraid to believe that. That trust is something I think I can get back for him. I started to think that I should be a little more forceful in coaxing him open. After all, he would be more likely to open his door if I was knocking. Right? Besides, he said something that day which offended me.

When we kissed before he got into the shower he broke away and breathed, "I hate my body. It's just a piece of meat."

Maybe he didn't know I heard him. But, that's no matter. I had a major problem with him saying that. That was beyond mourning. As far as I was concerned it was voluntary self-mutilation. He was sabotaging his own recovery. More importantly, I love him. And I could not let him go on thinking something like that.

His body is much more then just flesh. To me it is sacred: no matter where it has been or what has happened to it. His body is where his soul lives and I have made my home in his soul. I know it sounds sappy and under the pain of torture I would never admit this aloud: but, no matter where I am, if I am with him I am at home. Both he and his body are miraculously beautiful. I cannot allow him to think any differently.

I called his name again. He didn't answer. I gave a warning growl, "You know you're just making it worse for yourself, Ginji."

He accused, "Ban, you're mean," then paused. "Gimme my boxers back and I'll come out."

I unbuttoned my new shirt—which looked exactly like my old one, "You can have my shirt. But, that's all you get."

The room was silent for a moment before the door clicked open. He took the offered shirt then slammed the door shut again.

I heard him murmur, "Bastard."

He hardly ever swears. In fact, he scolds me if I do. I didn't know what to say. So, I persisted, "You comin' out?"

Finally, the door opened again and there he was – frowning and blushing deeply at the same time. The shirt was buttoned up and came down just enough to cover his ass. He had the sleeves rolled up.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

I have to admit, I was still a little pissed off at him for acting so childish. But, I kept my cool. The last thing he needed was for me to yell at him. I remained sitting with my back against the wall, "Come out, Ginji."

He took a step and dug his toes into the plush carpet. "Shut the door behind you and stay put."

I slowly finished my cigarette, put it out then stood. When I got up I gently took him from behind and guided him over to a full length mirror which was fastened to the hotel room door. I cupped his chin in my hand and adjusted his head so he was facing the mirror. His eyes were cast down and to the side.

"Look, Ginji," I commanded.

"Why are you punishing me like this? I didn't do anything wrong," his voice was very even – indifferent, almost. But, he looked as if he was about to cry. I wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes before they could fall.

I encouraged and that helped: "Relax, Ginji. Trust me. You're okay. No tears. I'm not going to hurt you."

He needs me to be gentle with him as well as strong. He glanced up. Our eyes met in the mirror.

"See?" I soothed, "That isn't so bad."

I held him against my chest and the back of his head was soft against my neck and the side of my face. I continued, "Don't hide anymore. There isn't anything to hide from."

I unfastened the top button with my free hand. He tensed and shivered electrically as if threatened. I warned, "Control yourself."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. The hint of electricity faded from the air. He still shook like a leaf against me though. I paused in unbuttoning him to occupy his mouth with my fingers. He yielded. I had the feeling that I was either helping him a great deal or harming him a great deal. Either way it was too late to turn back.

His tongue was warm and velvety and his lips were wet against the pads of my fingers. He gasped when I removed my fingers from his mouth and plunged my hand into his shirt across his nipples. He clung to my forearms and looked away again as if disgusted with his body's natural reaction to my touch.

I insisted, "There isn't anything dirty about this. You aren't doing anything wrong." I kissed down his exposed neck. "It's just me, Ginji. Look." He looked up again. I smiled at him, "I think you're beautiful and I'm always right. Aren't I?"

"Almost always," he admitted. I was relieved at this reaction from him. Last month if I had tried to pull a stunt like this he would probably have cried until his eyes went red and raw.

I grinned, "That's right." But, the look on my face, I noticed as I looked into the mirror, was, as usual, more carnivorous than warm. I nuzzled against his shoulder, trailed one hand down his stomach. He relaxed almost imperceptibly. I took that as an invitation and plunged my hand swiftly downward.

How he whispered my name when I took hold of him confused me. I couldn't tell if he was pleading protest or pleading with pleasure. The way I had my arms wrapped around him I could feel his heart pounding against the inside of his ribs. He shivered and gasped while I whispered encouragement.

I didn't tease. I worked steadily because I did not want to lose the glow of the small positive reaction I had gained from him. His eyes shined and looked at nothing in particular. And when he came his black lashes closed. His head was turned away from me. He sucked in air through his teeth as if in pain then sighed it out with a little begging cry of, "Ah, Ban-chan."

I held him up for a moment as he wobbled on unsteady legs. His skin was damp and warm. I kissed him before he twisted away and collapsed face down on the bed. I retreated guiltily to the bathroom and avoided my own eyes in the mirror as I washed my hands.

I stuck my head out the door and asked, rather pathetically, "You need something, Gin? Like… a washcloth?" 'Or a therapist or some tranquilizers, maybe, because you're probably freaking out,' I added mentally.

I didn't see him anywhere. I ventured fearfully back into the room with the sorry, limp washcloth in my hand and asked the empty space.

"Ginji?"

I stood there dumbly for a minute, listening for signs of life. There weren't any, not one sound for a full minute. It was like a nightmare, standing, not entirely knowing what I should do. If he had left he couldn't have gotten far. I decided I should look for him before he got lost.

I gathered my nerves and almost had a heart attack when the bed asked, "Ban-chan?" Ginji sat up, completely shrouded in the covers. I just looked at him. There was an uncertain whine to his voice like he was going to cry. I silently prayed he wouldn't.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something. I leaned forward intently. He started to cry. I couldn't have felt more terrible. He is the only one I would ever say this to: "Oh, God, Ginji. I am so sorry. I am so sorry."

I gathered him up in my lap. He sobbed wetly and made terrible sounds that only hurt children and hurt Ginjies make. I couldn't have been sorrier. I rocked and promised him that everything was going to be alright. I would have taken that hurt he had into me if I could have. I really wish I could have. After a while, his uncontrollable sobs became more restrained.

He hiccupped. He again asked, "Ban-chan?"

I answered, "Yeah?"

He hiccupped again, "I'm hungry."

I buried my face against the beautiful part of his neck where it joins with his shoulder that smells like him, "You idiot. There is sushi next to the bed."

So, he sat there shoveling food in his face, still crying like a maniac. And I just had to ask – because it was killing me, "Ginji?"

He answered, "Yeah?"

"You know," it was hard to force the words out but, I meant them, "I love you, right?" Pathetic – I felt weak for needing that assurance.

He took a long time in answering and by the time he had, his tears had stopped and the sushi plate was totally cleared. "Yes, Ban-chan. I know you love me. I am hurt, and I'm sad. But, I know you love me."

"Good," I sighed. I needed to see his smile. "Then I should consider _operation 'sexual roulette_' a success?"

He yawned sleepily, half-smiling, "Whatever, lunatic."

I didn't smack him for calling me a name. We curled up together like two spoons and I watched as his breathing evened and he fell asleep. I was very relieved.

I had almost fallen asleep myself when there was a knock at the door. It was insistent. I snuggled closer to Ginji and willed it to go away. Not only did I want to leave the warmth of our bed but, as stupid as it sounds, I felt like there was some terrible news waiting on the other side of the door. I eased away from Ginji and tip toed to answer the knocking.

I looked through the peephole. I was surprised. It was Hevn, standing there with her boobs hanging out and looking nervous in the rather seedy part of the city in which we were staying. I opened the door and greeted her, "How'd you find us, Milkmounds?"

"If you call me that one more time I'm going to pour sugar in your gas tank. See how high and mighty you are then with no money and no wheels," she frowned, pulled at her bra. Those things must be heavy as hell but, it doesn't at all affect her queenly posture. "Besides, I think that the proper question here would be, 'Why did you bother to find us at this time of night, in this part of the city? It must be important.'"

I felt like I needed a cigarette, "Fine. Why?"

She looked genuinely concerned. I knew this was something that would not be pretty, "It's Emishi."

It wouldn't be something that I would want to tell Ginji, "What about Emishi?"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So, the continuation / sequel to Snake Charmer will be told from Akabane's POV. Here is the first chapter. It starts with Akabane abducting Ginji. There is no rape. But, there is really, really graphic violence. There is also an ass-ton of Akabane-angst: Akabane-san being pushed beyond the tipping point of what little sanity he has angst. I wanted to see if I could pull this off and keep him in character. I think I did to some extent. But, it is hard to pull IC off and be inside his head because I think part of Akabane's character is not knowing what the hell he's thinking about. So, he might be a little off. Read at your own risk. Please no flames. Please review.

"Ginji-kun."

His eyes fluttered and opened, but only slightly. I could see through his dark, thick eyelashes that they were glossy and unfocused.

"You passed out," I explained.

The cabin of the trailer we were traveling in swayed slightly. It was mostly empty except for about twelve large boxes stacked against the wall opposite the doors. He must have started to realize where he was because his eyes snapped open now.

"You drugged me," he accused as, wincing, he struggled to sit up.

It was true. I had. Call me old fashioned, but I had used a canister of methyl trichloride, a souvenir from my days in medical school. Then I had administered diazepam intravenously to suppress his electroception. However, that wasn't the only thing I had done.

"I wouldn't," I pushed him easily back down into the position in which I had arranged him, "if I were you."

He looked for a moment surprised and terrified and then what was that look? Humiliation? Perhaps anger? You have such expressive eyes, Ginji-kun. They allow anyone to see right through you. Is it impossible for you to hide any of your feelings?

"What... did you?"

"I put a scalpel inside you," I explained with all the calm of a physician telling his patient he only has a few more weeks to live and none of the sympathy. "If you don't relax you'll cut yourself open."

He reached out and grabbed my sleeve. He strained to produce just a little static charge.

"Why don't," ...I see how far can I push you, Ginji-kun? What will I find when I crack you open? What is it, even, that I want you to show me? "we play a game? To pass the time until Midou-kun arrives."

I could see him begin to know what a predicament he was in. But, I don't think he realized it completely just yet. I suppose, some of this behavior could be explained the drugs. He was still being stubborn and childish. Which is entertaining – but not what I was in the mood for today.

"I don't think I want to, Akabane-san."

"Disappointing, Ginji-kun," I materialized a scalpel in my gloved hand. "Shall I seek my amusement elsewhere, perhaps?" I pressed my tool into the flesh above his eyebrow and drew it towards me. With a feather light touch his skin split open. Blood welled up in the wound and dripped down his temple, into his hair. "Maybe, I'll fillet off your face. Where should I start? With your eyelids?" I traced the blunt end of the scalpel down his nose. "Or your lips?"

Now, he began to grow nervous. His breathing was becoming shallow and rapid. His eyes flickered from side to side as if he were desperately looking for a way out. There wasn't one.

He was acting as if he had never before been acquainted with my lust for blood. I know I had shown this side of myself to him before. However, I suppose that he was getting a little too used to it being convenient for me to derive my amusement from him without hurting him. Either that, or he had convinced himself that there was a glimmer of humanity left in me where I don't believe there is one.

"I'll play with you."

"Good," I could feel myself smile. I am a demon, "this way is much more amusing. The rules are simple. One of us will count to five. The other will decide where I cut you. Every time the person counting hits five I will cut you. Do you understand? Do you want to count or do you want to decide?"

"Why are you doing this, Akabane-san?"

Was that concern on his face? Who was it directed at, me? It was an interesting question, though even if I knew the answer, as did he. For amusement of course. But, it made me wonder - as it usually does when I'm around him - what exactly was it that I was diverting myself from. This annoyed me. What was it about him that made me think this way?

"Count or choose," I felt my eyes narrow, "Ginji-kun?"

"Choose," he blurted as if sensing my impatience.

"One, two, three, four, five."

He paused.

"You have to decide by the time I'm done counting," I scolded.

I grabbed his foot and made a small indecision above the nail on his big toe just to make a point. The tops of people's feet are very sensitive as are areas of skin which lie almost directly on top of bone. He gritted his teeth. His eyes widened. His body tensed. My blade scraped bone. It must have been excruciating.

"One."

"Akabane-san," he cried desperately now that he saw that this was not a joke.

"Two."

"-this isn't-"

"Three."

"-the Akabane-san-"

"Four."

"-I know."

"Five, then you are far too trusting, Ginji-kun." The Akabane he knows? Interesting. Again, he said nothing. "Too slow, again." I took his other foot and did the same with it that I had the first. This time he almost screamed. I could see it in his face. "This is no fun if you don't play along. Do you really want me to start cutting things off?"

"One, two," I quickened my pace this time.

"Why?"

"Three, four."

"Akabane-san."

"Five."

He didn't say anything. He just offered me one hand and covered his face with the other. Ginji-kun, you are so very interesting. I should be asking you, 'Why?' 'Why aren't you begging for your life?' or 'Why aren't you pleading for mercy?' Really: 'Why are you so worried about me when it should be glaringly apparent that you are the one here who is suffering?' What is it you think you see in me, Ginji-kun? I took his smallest finger and made an incision in the pad. Fresh blood blossomed over my blade and spilled onto my hands. I could feel the warmth of it through my gloves. He gritted his teeth.

"One," slower this time. I wanted to watch the fear build in him.

"Two," nothing yet, just defiance.

"Three," panic - for a split second - in his eyes.

"Four--"

His phone started ringing. I picked it out of his pocket and read the screen. It said, 'Ban-chan!'

"Answer it," I flipped the phone open and held it to his face.

"A truck – I'm in a truck," he panted into the phone after listening for a second.

I took the phone from him. I guess something about being deprived of the opportunity to hear his partner's voice made something in him snap because tears welled up in his eyes.

"Ban-chan," he pleaded.

"Still there, Ginji?" the voice on the other end of the line asked. I held one finger up at Ginji-kun.

I smiled. Hello, Midou-kun, "You sure are slow for a tactical genius. Know that? I was sure you would catch me in the act - completely and totally - sure. But, you didn't. It was the most excitement I've had in a very long time."

"Listen, bitch-tits," he roared.

"Bitch-tits?" I held the phone away from my face and turned down the volume. I showed Ginji-kun another finger: two, "That's creative."

"Don't you dare even lay," I held up a third finger, only half listening to the voice end of the line, "so much one of your filthy fucking fingers on Ginji."

"Too late," I smiled down at my prey, held up another finger: four. "You know I'm the only one guarding this cargo. It's just me and the driver and Ginji in this truck. And the driver doesn't even know Ginji is here."

"Fuck you." One last finger: five. "This is way too far you sick shit. I—" He was sobbing abjectly and didn't indicate where he wanted me to cut him so I reached out and sliced his cheek open. He whimpered loudly now. Midou-kun must have heard it because rage swelled in his voice, "God! Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I find you?"

"Well, if you just started driving you're about ten minutes behind us. And we're going about 135 km/h and that is pushing it as far as the speed limit goes. So, even if you drive at speed faster than that – which I don't suggest, there are a lot of cops on this road – you'll probably catch up to us in about an hour. So, I'm not worried about you finding me just yet. But – to answer your question – I think you'll probably do about the same thing to me as I'm doing to Ginji."

"Bastard," he spit. Perfect, I was getting to him.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'll be looking forward to it." Ginji-kun had begun to whimper his partner's name, "Do you want to talk to Ginji again? He is crying out for you."

Silence.

"No? Okay. Well, you'll have plenty of time to talk later."

I snapped the phone shut and looked down at Ginji. He seemed to have regained some of his composure either that, or I had already pushed him past some sort of edge. His breath was coming in short, shallow puffs. His eyes were glazed over and looking into the middle distance not in front of him but inside his own head, as if he were attempting to retreat into himself. There's nowhere to hide, Ginji-kun.

"One," I started. "Two." He was still not looking at anything in particular. But, his breathing was more even and had slowed. "What are you thinking, Ginji-kun?" I wondered aloud to myself. "Three."

"Did you," he smiled sadly. His eyes were still staring off into the space inside his head, "torture animals as a child, Akabane-san? Did you set fires?"

"Four," I shook my head. Where are you going with this? I was always kind to animals. Once, when I was in the third grade I had shamed my parents by throwing a tantrum in school, refusing to dissect a live frog in science class. They didn't understand why. But, the truth was that it was difficult for me to look at blood without vomiting. It took me until I was almost 20 years old to get over that. Oh, how people change. "Five. No, I didn't." I don't think they would have let me into medical school if I was a child arsonist known to torture animals.

He gave me his hand again. It was shaking. I changed scalpels because the one I had been using was growing dull. I cut him again.

"One."

"Then we're the same. Aren't we, Akabane-san?"

"Two." The same? How are we the same, Ginji-kun? I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

"Akabane-san," his brow furrowed, "what made you want to become a doctor?"

When I was in my last year of university the country was on the brink of braking out into war. I had studied philosophy. I had no skills, really. So, I knew I would be drafted into the military and that I would be put on the front lines. The idea of killing anyone was frightening to me. Like I saw it I had two options: become a member of the clergy or become a doctor. I never had much faith in God. I decided that could I take life and death into my own hands. I would become a surgeon.

"Three."

I graduated medical school at the top of my class, not because I was particularly gifted but because I spent most of my time shut up in my tiny room studying as though the answer to all of mankind's petty problems was written somewhere between the pages of my textbooks about the healing arts. As soon as I finished my residency the war finally started. I was drafted as an officer in the medical core. I had wanted to specialize in pediatrics. But, there aren't any children in the military. At least there weren't until the very end of the war when most of the men of my generation were wiped out.

"Four."

And I had thought it wouldn't be so bad. That was silly of me.

"Five," he reached out his still trembling hand yet again, "Naivety."

"You wanted to help people," this was more of a statement than a question. "What happened?"

Why all of these questions? Are you trying to distract yourself? Are you trying to distract me? Is that it? Are you trying to delay the cutting? Or are you really, genuinely interested because your mind is too clouded by the disassociative drugs for you to remember where you are?

"One."

The war swept through my life like a storm. It ate up everything I knew, everything I thought I could protect. One by one I watched my entire family die. On a Sunday in the spring while my mother worked out in the yard she was blown to bits by a wayward bomb that took out both the house I grew up in and the garden she had put her heart into growing. My little baby sister, who wasn't a baby by then, was down the road when this happened and saw the whole thing. Soon after, she lost her mind. I checked her into a mental hospital. She hung herself with her bedsheets within the same week. I buried them next to one another. Not that it matters. I never visit them.

"Two."

"I think you must have been a good surgeon."

Except for the fact that I became emotionally attached to my patients I was an excellent surgeon. I remember the first time I felt like it was my fault when a patient of mine who died on the operating table. I felt like I had killed him. They say you're not really a doctor until you've killed someone. I had a hard time accepting that.

The trauma ward was over flowing that day. A factory town close by had been hit hard by a bombardment. I hadn't slept all night. How could I have slept in that bloody sea of men, women and children moaning, crying and writing in pain? There weren't enough beds. At some point we had run out of morphine. I had stayed up making rounds. There were so many of them to care for and against my best efforts they kept dying. No matter how fast I worked, no matter how hard I tried, their lives just slipped through my hands.

The night was hellish. In the morning I thought the worst of it was over. But, just when there was some semblance of calm in the trauma ward a new wave came in. We started turning people away. I remember looking at this young man and thinking that he was just a kid, even though he couldn't have been any more than five years younger than me. He looked like a childhood friend of mine. I took him in even though it should have been obvious that there was nothing I could have done for him. It was a miracle that he had even lived long enough to make it to the hospital. His stomach was all torn up from shrapnel. There was almost nothing left of him to hold his organs in.

I told myself this one, _this one _would not slip through my fingers. I had barley picked up my scalpel when he gave up the ghost. I watched his heart stop. I knew there was nothing I could have done for him really. I knew it. But, I could not accept it. I just wanted something to hold on to. I reached into him and tried to start his heart beating again with my bare hands. It took the nurse a full five minutes to convince me to pronounce him dead.

"Three."

"But, you watched a lot of people die. Didn't you?"

Death is simply the irreversible cessation of circulation of blood in the body of the person or irreversible cessation of all function of the brain of the person. To live is for blood to continue to circulate and for the brain to continue to function. That's what I started telling myself after about a year on the front. As I recall, that's about the time we started running out of supplies. I started wearing the same lab coat every day. The sleeves started to turn a rusty brown because the bloodstains refused to come out, no matter how hard I scrubbed. I started to look more like a butcher than a doctor. That's how I started to feel, too.

"Four."

"Maybe, some of them were people you loved?"

Yes, there were people that I loved who died. But, that was foolish. The human body is just oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen and some other trace elements. People are just skin and hair and blood and bones and cartridge and muscle. What is there to love about that? Nothing, I reminded myself, absolutely nothing. But, something didn't feel right. There was a tugging in my chest.

"You thought a lot of sad things like, 'It's my fault because I couldn't save them,' and a lot of angry things like, 'I would be better off just killing everyone, making someone else feel this way instead,' didn't you Akabane-san?"

The tugging sensation had started to ache. I tried to push it out of my mind. However, those infectious little lies were knocking instantly, trying to speak. I found that I was concentrating so hard on trying to keep them out of my mind that I had forgotten what number I was on.

"It hurt a lot. Didn't it? You hated yourself for it and that made you hurt even more? It hurt so much that you forgot who you were, forgot what it was to be afraid."

At some point, I gave myself up to the monster that had eaten everything I knew. I put the idea of death out of my head, hollowed it out, evacuated my heart. Now, in the emptiness my emotions just echo for a moment and defuse. Maybe to feel differently than this is to live and the opposite of that feeling that I don't have is to die.

"Does forgetting really make it better?"

I watched the blood coagulate on Ginji's temple, "I haven't forgotten any of it."

"Doesn't it get lonely?"

"Lonely?" it was hard to fit my mouth around the word. I repeated it as if I had forgotten its meaning. Maybe I had.

"Yeah, you know," he almost laughed, "isn't it kind of lonely just killing everybody all the time?"

The tugging in my chest twitched painfully. This was starting to piss me off. I growled, "Five."

I didn't wait for him to indicate where he wanted me to cut him. I reached out impulsively and covered his mouth to muffle the scream I knew would erupt from him as I reached out stabbed him through his shirt. I did not cut deep but his face scrunched up and he started crying again.

"One," I removed my hand from his mouth. He whimpered as I pulled the scalpel out. My gloves were covered in his spit and sweat and tears and blood.

"You poor, sick bastard," he was bawling.

"Two." Why am I the one in this situation who is to be pitied?

"I can see how fucking lonely you are written in those eyes of yours," he accused.

"Three."

"I can hear it every time you laugh," he continued. He sounded almost angry now.

"Four."

He panted, "You pathetic, lonely, lonely demon."

"Five."

He gave me his hand again. I reached out and covered his airways as I put his hand down on the floor and stabbed my scalpel clean through his thumbnail. He made some horrible muffled sound like a wounded animal. That would shut him up. I kept my hand over his nose and mouth a moment longer just to make sure.

"One."

He screamed under my hand.

"Two."

I let go. He gasped for air.

"Three."

He panted.

"Four."

"You sad, lonely mother-fucker," he almost whispered. "If you weren't so lonely me telling you that you are wouldn't be pissing you off so much."

"Five," I was about ready to kill him even though that was not at all what I had originally intended. "Honestly, Ginji-kun, I'm about to cut your tongue right out of your head and watch you drown in your own blood."

"You wouldn't," he sobbing. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Well, maybe you would."

He sobbed and laughed and choked on his snot and hyperventilated and then laughed and sobbed some more. I didn't see what was so funny or what was so sad. His strange display of emotion was kind of disgusting to me.

"Why the fuck is that funny?" I snapped. I surprised myself. I don't usually swear.

"I might be the only friend you've got. But... you'd still kill me. Akabane-san, it's so sad it's funny."

Suddenly, it felt like it pulled whatever had been the aching and tugging free, leaving a hole somewhere above my stomach that had been plugged up torn open. Everything which usually lingers distantly like an old scar came undone like a fresh wound. It was so painful that I almost struggled to catch my breath. There was something wet on my face. He was right. I _would_ kill him even though he's the only one who is kind to me.

"Akabane-san, you monster, you monster, you monster," Ginji reached up and touched my cheek. The open wounds in his fingers smeared blood with the wetness. They mixed together and trailed down his arm, dripping onto the floor. His tired eyes and his bloody, tear stained face were nervous yet somehow angry and caring all at once, "Don't cry about it. Just don't fucking kill me."

This might be it. This is what I wanted to see from you, this is what I find so fascinating about you. In a way you are just like I was when I was young. But, I see now why people follow you like you're some sort of savior, a surgeon for the soul. Those eyes of yours, they see right through people. And your words cut the demons right out of peoples' heads.

The power of the boy Amano Ginji is much more frightening than the power of the Lightening Emperor. He's pushed me to the edge without even lifting a finger. Right from the beginning I was stabbed in the heart. I just didn't know I had been bleeding. Yes, just now, I suppose you had almost killed me, Ginji-kun.

An odd thought occurred to me. Could it be that's what I want? Maybe, if I take that hand you keep offering me, could you lift me out from all of the wrong I've done? I reached up slowly and took his hand in mine. It was warm and trembling almost imperceptibly.

No.

This is not what I want. I don't need your surgery, Ginji-kun. After all, you can't bring something back to life once it has died and can't kill something that's already dead. So, get your knives away from me and leave my soul alone. I removed his hand from my face and let it go.

If you listened close enough, in that silence you probably could have heard me snap back from my newly recovered humanity with a sickening 'crack, pop, crunch,' like a bone being reset in its socket. The hole in my chest seemed to close. The emotions drained from me like pus from a wound, the pain resided and I was numb. Death, regret, sorrow, once again they were somebody else's problem.

I turned again to my victim and asked, "Why don't we switch? How about you count for a while?"


End file.
